


In the Shadow of Greatness

by Glade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Evil Dumbledore, Gen, Ginny as a victim, Hogwarts Second Year, POV Ginny Weasley, POV Multiple, POV Ron Weasley, POV Severus Snape, Paranoid Dumbledore, Rescue Missions, Riddle as a diary, Save Harry from the Dursleys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glade/pseuds/Glade
Summary: The Harry Potter stories are all told from Harry's (rather unobservent) pov. What do the side characters think of events? What are their motivations? (With a rather large secret which will hopefully be uncovered over the years). Beginning after Harry et al go after the Philosophers Stone.





	1. The lies of Albus Dumbledore

**Author's Note:**

> The incredible machinations of Albus Dumbledore.

Albus had been expecting the diversion for some time, but that didn’t stop the sense of impeding disaster when he reached the Ministry for an emergency session of the Wizengamot which wasn’t on. However, the Minister for Magic called him into his office and Albus was unable to get away without causing a diplomatic incident for quite a while.

When he finally managed to get away, thanks in no small part to Hermione’s owl, he flooed directly into his office from the Minister’s. No doubt Fudge would be complaining about it for months to come, but Albus could deal with that later. Right now he had to check that Harry had actually survived his crucible. Unfortunately, he was too late to observe Quirrel (and Riddle, not that anyone needed to know that Albus knew that little secret) and Harry interacting with the Mirror of Erised.

Cursing the Minister soundly (in his head, no need to alarm the general public), he hurried over to the Hospital Wing, to be informed that Mr Potter was unconscious but perfectly alright, and would be up for receiving visitors _when he woke up_ _and no sooner_. Knowing how futile it would be to argue with the Mediwitch, Albus tried to sate his curiosity by grilling Miss Granger and Mr Weasley about what had happened. But that did little to relieve the stress about what Harry had had to go through in the final chamber. Even consoling the Flamels about their part in this challenge, and assuring them faithfully (and completely falsely) that the  Stone would be destroyed didn’t distract him from the worry.

Eventually, Poppy allowed him in to see Harry, after cautioning him (as she always did) about overtaxing Mr Potter before he’s completely fit and healthy again. Albus sat down on the chair next to the bed, and pulled the mantle of old slightly mad Headmaster around himself,  just as Harry stirred and opened his eyes.

“Good afternoon Harry,” he intoned.

Harry blinked and looked wildly around himself. “Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrel! He’s got the Stone! Sir, quick-”

“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” Albus replied, pleasantly surprised at how quickly Harry had woken up and completely remembered what he had been doing prior to being knocked unconscious. “Quirrel does not have the stone.”

“Then who does? Sir, I-”

Albus knew he had to take control of the conversation before Harry became so wound up that Poppy chased him out of the Hospital Wing. “Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

Harry looked around again. Albus wasn’t that surprised that he hadn’t really taken in his surroundings before, but that was definitely something he’d have to train the boy to do. He watched as Harry’s eyes alighted on all the sweet boxes placed out of the way on a table off to one side. “Tokens from your friends and admirers.” Albus said, hoping that the positive reinforcement would help train Harry into a soldier. “What happened down in the dungeons is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows.” Better get him used to thinking about his life as common knowledge, Albus thought shrewdly. And now to distract him so he can’t think about that for too long. “I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for  trying to send you a lavatory seat. Madam Po m frey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic and confiscated it.”

“How long have I been here?” Harry asked, wincing as movement made his muscles ache more.

“Three days,” Albus replied. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come around” And so am I, he added silently in his head, still wondering what had actually happened in the dungeon between him and Quirrel.”They have been extremely worried.”

“But Sir, the Stone-”

“I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrel did not manage to take it from you before he was destroyed. I arrived after the event, and I must say you did very well.”

“You got there? You got Hermione’s owl?”

Yes, and very smart thinking on your part. No sooner had I reached London that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. However, the Minister for Magic  insisted on talking to me until the owl, when I was able to make my escape and get back here. I must apologise for being too late to assist, although you did seem to have the situation under control most admirably.  And now Harry, would you indulge an old man’s curiosity”-always sooth and distract,  remind others that he wasn’t a threat \- “and tell me what went on between yourself and Professor Quirrel in the final room?”

Harry glanced down at his hands before looking back up at Albus, reminding the older man vividly of a young Tom Riddle, who employed exactly the same mannerism before lying through his teeth. Albus shook the thought free and settled in to listen to Harry’s tale. 

“\- and then Quirrel turned into smoke and I fainted.” Harry ended.

“Sir?” he added, since Albus was staring at him, deep in thought.

“Hmm?” Albus replied, coming back to himself with a start. He mentally filed the story away to peruse at his leisure.

“What happened with the Stone?”

“It has been destroyed.”

Harry stared at him, and he was suddenly reminded of another 11 year old, many many years ago, who had stared at him in exactly the same way after almost being lied to. He almost expected the same order to ‘Tell the truth!’, but Harry shook his head, and said

“Destroyed?” blankly. “But your friend- Nicholas Flamel-”

Albus wondered whether that was  a normal 11 year old’s response to the idea of imminent death, or whether Riddle was affecting Harry’s brain in some subtle way. “”Oh, you know about Nicholas?” said Dumbledore, to buy himself time to think. “You  _did_ do the thing properly, didn’t you? Well, Nicholas and I have had a little chat, and agreed that it’s all for the best.”

“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t they?”

“They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.” Albus smiled at the look of amazement on Harry’s face, having just decided that it must be a natural reaction. “To someone as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicholas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, _very,_ long day.” He added some more waffle about the Stone not being so wonderful, hoping to catch any hint of Tom Riddle in Harry’s reactions, but Harry only seemed to be lost for words, without any hint of Riddle. Albus smiled, glancing up at the ceiling to hide the fact he had been staring at Harry for so long.

E ventually Harry founds another question to ask. “Sir? I’ve been thinking...Sir, even if the Stone’s gone, Vol-...I mean You-Know-Who-”

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name always increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Yes Sir. Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?”

Albus was  _very_ pleased that Harry had come to this conclusion himself, rather than have to be lead to this answer. “No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share...not being truly alive-” Albus decided to gloss over the details of how Tom Riddle wasn’t quite alive- “he cannot be killed. He left Quirrel to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems like a losing battle next time- and if he is delayed again, and again, why he may never return to power.”

Albus hoped that Harry had picked up on his subtle hints about not joining Tom Riddle- the pair of them could be very powerful together- and also about having to keep fighting to delay Tom Riddle time and time again, hopefully delaying his return enough to allow Dumbledore to find some way to stop Riddle for good.

“Sir, there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me...things I want to know the truth about...” Albus felt his blood run ice-cold for a split second. Was this Riddle’s influence, causing Harry to think he hadn’t been given the truth before? Reality reasserted itself a second later- Riddle would never phrase anything so diffidently.

“The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason to do so, in which case I beg you will forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.” ‘At least, not in any way you’re likely to find out’, Albus added silently.

“Well...Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?”

Albus sighed, deeply. He didn’t dare tell Harry the prophecy at this point, not when he wasn’t yet convinced that Harry wasn’t harbouring some small part of Riddle, which might hear the prophecy and somehow transmit it to the greater part of his consciousness, wherever it was. “Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day...put it from your mind for now Harry. When you are older...I know you hate to hear this...when you are ready, you will know.”

Albus expected Harry to argue- surely if Riddle was influencing his behaviour at all, this would be something Riddle would not- could not budge on. He must find out. But Harry didn’t argue the point, merely moved onto his next one.

“But why couldn’t Quirrel touch me?”

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love.” Was he imagining the sudden sharpening of Harry’s gaze, as he mentioned a weakness of Riddle? Because he wasn’t to learn about Riddle’s weaknesses, and so how best to defeat him, or because he wanted to fix any weakness in his defence? Albus couldn’t be sure either way. “He didn’t realise that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign...to have loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrel, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

“And the invisibility cloak- do you know who sent it to me?”

“Ahh- your father happened to leave it in my possession”- lies, but Harry wasn’t going to find out- “and I thought you might like it. Useful things...your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here.” Another lie, but this one kindly meant. And not mentioning that it was a Deathly Hallow was only a lie of omission, and valid under the rules of this discussion.

“And there’s something else...”

“Fire away,”

“Quirrel said Snape-”

“ _Professor_ Snape, Harry,”

“Yes, him- Quirrel said he hates be because he hated my father. Is that true?”

“Well,” Albus said slowly, deciding how much to tell him, “they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.”

“What?”

“He saved his life.” Among other things, Albus added silently.

“ _What?”_

“Yes...funny, the way people’s minds work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt...I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father quits. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace.” Lies, lies, all lies but Albus felt that they were justified in order to ease the relationship between Harry and Severus. If Harry believed that Severus was justified in hating him…

“And Sir, there’s one more thing...”

Albus very much doubted that. “Just the one?”

“How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?”

Albus paused for a second to weigh up the risks of Riddle finding out against his own desire to share the secret. Sharing the secret won. “Ahh, now I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that’s saying something. You see, only someone who wanted to _find_ the Stone- find it but not use it- would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes...now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ahh! Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans!” Perfect, Albus thought, for distracting Harry from his ordeal by fire down in the dungeons off the third floor corridor. “I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for them- but I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee, don’t you?” He popped the toffee coloured bean into his mouth, and promptly choked on the very definitely not toffee flavoured bean. Never again. He was staying clear of the Merlin-cursed things until he learnt the spell to determine flavour. He managed a smile for Harry, who was looking rather nervous. “Alas, earwax!”


	2. Ron Weasley, friend, rescuer, all around awesome and caring guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron rescues Harry and tries to help him deal with being saved from the Dursleys. And is confused about his feelings.

Ron reached the Dursleys, and his feeble hope that Harry wasn’t being abused (and was only not answering his letters because he was too busy having fun) was instantly snuffed out. Grateful for the foresight he had had in bringing the twins along, he helped load the car up and escape, laughing along with Harry as Vernon was pulled out of the window and onto the patio below.

“So, what’ve you been up to?” Harry asked as they soared up above the scant cloud cover and turned towards home.

“Pretty typical summer really, mate,” Ron replied, firmly sitting on his urge to reach out and touch his friend. He was usually a physical person, but figured that Harry wasn’t in any fit state to realise that it was a friendly touch rather than a hostile one. Better give him a few weeks to regain his equilibrium first. “Quidditch, helping mum, owling Hermione,”

Harry perked up at the mention of his other friend, and Ron spent the rest of the trip telling him about Hermione’s trip to the South of France to visit relatives, trying to keep Harry’s mind off of the realisation that he was free of the Dursley’s for however long until he was somewhere more stable with hiding places.

He was so busy with that that he forgot to be nervous about the incredibly sorry state of his home until they arrived. He took in the wilted flowers in the window boxes, the haphazard nature of the numerous additions to the house and the chickens which had escaped from their pen _again_ with fresh eyes, and fidgeted as he mentally compared them to the straight, even house and perfect lawn of the Dursleys. But Harry’s face stretched into a grin, hesitantly, as though he couldn’t remember quite how it was supposed to work, and Ron felt himself relax. 

They reached the Burrow, and Ron instantly felt the second Harry tensed up next to him, half a step behind Fred and George. Ron couldn’t tell what had set him off, but a second later, Molly started telling them all off, and Ron could see Harry getting tenser and tenser as the tirade continued.

“They were starving him mum!” Ron interjected, trying to distract Harry. All that happened was that Molly turned her attention on Harry, who flinched but didn’t try to run away. “Hello Harry, dear. It’s lovely to see you.” Ron was confused when Harry only tensed harder, but nodded mutely. “Breakfast’s on the table, you lot. Go on then.” she finished, nodding her head towards the large wooden kitchen table already loaded with toast, jam, butter as well as a large dish of various cooked items.

“Come on Harry,” Ron said, as Harry went to his trunk rather than the table, “you can leave that there until after breakfast, it’s not in anyone’s way.” Harry perched on the edge of a seat, and picked up half a slice on toast, nibbling on one end.

Molly took one look at that, and immediately picked up his plate and started loading it with a bit of everything, eyeing him sternly until he picked up his fork and started eating. “No need to go so fast,” she chided him gently, “it’s not going anywhere, and there’s plenty for everyone. Have seconds if you’re still hungry.” Ron saw Harry’s eyes swivel to her and then to his, as if to check the veracity of that statement, and Ron did his best to look supportive. Harry silently went back to his breakfast.

Just then Ginny came running down the stairs, jumping the last three and landing on the balls of her feet. “Mum, have you seen my jumper?”

“Yes dear, it’s on the cat,” Molly replied, finally sitting down with her own plate. Ginny ran over to the cat hook and pulled her jumper on over her nightdress before sitting down opposite Harry.

“Hello,” Harry said, glancing up at her. Ginny blushed red, muttered something unintelligible, accidentally stuck her elbow in the butter dish and ran back upstairs.

“Ginny,” Ron said with a sigh, “she’s got this giant crush on you. She’ll get over it.” Harry stared at him as though he was a complete nutter, but shook his head and turned back to his plate rather than ask any of the questions on his mind.

After breakfast, Ron prevented Harry from feeling awkward and unsure what he should be doing by telling Harry to help him carry Harry’s trunk up the five flights of stairs to his room.

“It’s not much,” Ron said, suddenly really aware of the holes in the bedspread and small window, not letting in much light due to the low-lying eves, “but it’s home.”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry replied firmly, sounding almost completely sincere. There was a slight off note to it, which Ron chalked up to the all-nighter and unease of a new situation he didn’t fully understand yet.

Over the next few weeks, Harry seemed to settle down into life at the Burrow, Ron was delighted to see. There were fewer and fewer wide-eyed looks of terror at the thought he might have done something wrong, and more relaxing and casually chatting with people. He particularly seemed to enjoy talking to Arthur about his work at the Ministry and the function of rubber ducks. Ron tried to not be jealous that his father was spending more time with Harry than with him, but it was hard.

After three weeks at the Burrow, Molly took Ron to one side one evening and quietly mentioned to him that they had to go to Diagon Alley soon to get everyone’s school equipment, but she wasn’t sure whether Harry was up for the trip. Ron frowned as he thought. Just that afternoon Harry had nearly freaked at hearing Ginny screeching for mercy in a water fight, but there weren’t that many days left until September 1st, and the closer they got, the more crowded it would be.

“I really don’t want to,” Ron said slowly, thinking things through, “but I don’t think it’s because Harry won’t cope. I just have a bad feeling about it.”

Molly smiled, and kissed Ron on the forehead. “You’re just as proud as your father. It will be fine.” Ron stared after her, confused, as she bustled around tidying the kitchen.

The next day dawned bright and sunny- a good omen, Ron decided. Molly bustled around, making sure everyone had thirds at breakfast. Afterwards, they all gathered in the sitting room, and Molly offered Harry a flowerpot, causing Harry to stare at her in confusion. Suddenly, Ron remembered that Harry was essentially muggleborn. “Oh shoot, Mum, he won’t have travelled by floo powder before! Sorry Harry, I forgot!” Harry turned his gaze on Ron.

“Floo powder?” he asked, confused.

“I’ll go first,” Ron said, and took a handful of the grainy powder out of the pot, trying not to spill too much on the carpet. He threw it into the fire, stepped in and announced clearly “Diagon Alley”, vanishing in a puff of green smoke.


	3. Ginny and the Diary which ruins her life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny finds THE diary, and begins writing in it. Riddle responds.

As soon as everyone had flooed safely home again, Ginny took her caudron full of books and other accoutrements she needed for her first year at Hogwarts upstairs to her room. Being an active participant of the yearly Diagon Ally trip, rather than an annoyed observer had been more tiring than she had imagined, and she wanted some peace and quiet (although how much of the latter was feasible with Fred and George around was anyone’s guess) to have a look through her school books. Not that there were many new (to her, she thought, annoyed as ever at being the youngest of 7 children); most of the books assigned to her were the same as in previous years and she already had the first-year books Ron had used lined neatly up on a bookshelf. She skipped over the shiny new Gilderoy Lockhart books, her heart skipping as she remembered that _Harry Potter_ had given them to her. She blushed at the memory of her standing up for him, and hoped that he hadn’t taken it the wrong way. The next book out of the cauldron was a very battered copy of ‘Merpeople customs’ which her mum had bought her after some judicious begging. Strictly speaking it wasn’t a necessary purchase for Hogwarts, but she’d wanted a copy for ages and even Percy had expressed some interest in learning about merpeople, so as to look better for job applications. She flopped down onto the bed, and flipped the book open on a random page. A smaller book fell out, and she picked it up, curious.

It appeared to be a diary, 50 years out of date. She raised an eyebrow, curiosity aroused, always eager to see what other people do with their lives, but the book was disappointingly empty. Only the original owner’s name- T. M. Riddle- was written neatly on the first page. She supposed that it had been stuck in ‘Merpeople customs’ for a while, and clearly the original owner didn’t want it back. She mentally shrugged, and reached for quill and ink, the other book temporarily forgotten. Loose pieces of parchment didn’t really make for a great diary, and this book looked so old and nondescript that none of her brothers would notice it if she tucked it with the other battered books on her shelf.

Quill dipped, she hesitated, not quite sure where to start. The trip to Diagon Alley would make the most sense, it being the beginning of her life as she sees it, but Harry Potter won’t stay out of her head, and she decided to start with him. She could always go back and change things later anyway, she figured, and redipped the quill before writing.

 

_I think Harry was being abused. No-one wants to tell me anything (does anyone ever???) bu_

 

**Harry who?**

 

_Harry Po Wait, who are you?_

 

**I’m Tom, the original owner of this diary. Pleased to meet you, whoever you are.**

 

_I’m Ginny Weasley_

 

**One of the sacred twenty-eight.**

 

_Unfortunately_

 

**So about this Harry? I may be able to help.**

 

Ginny stared at the diary, thinking. She wasn’t sure that she felt comfortable talking to another person about someone else. She certainly wouldn’t want a near complete stranger to tell another stranger about herself. But she didn’t know how to say that to Tom. She glanced down at the page again, unsure. Eventually, she must’ve hesitated for too long, as another message came through.

 

**If you would prefer, tell me about yourself.**

 

Relieved that Tom didn’t push her, she told Tom about her six brothers and sneaking out of the house to practice quidditch, as well as the myriad aunts and uncles on both sides of her family. Tom seemed particularly interested in her recent family tree, quizzing her on which side of the family everyone was on and their respective birthdates until her mother called her down for dinner.

She ran down the many stairs between her bedroom and the kitchen, and easily joined the general exodus of Weasley children as they grabbed plates and crockery and helped ferry the many pots and dishes of food outside to where Fred and George had finally stopped playing with the tables and put them in place. Just outside the doorway, she saw Harry standing awkwardly on the edge of it all, and stopped, the memory of her awkward impassioned speech coming back to her. Percy, who was just behind her with a large pot of something, muttered something under his breath and stepped awkwardly around her. Suddenly coming back to herself, Ginny carried on over to the table and started hanging out plates, blushing furiously when Harry thanked her. Plates handed out, Ginny escaped to the other end of the table, and sat down next to her dad and spent the meal grilling him about Hogwarts.

After dinner, her mum reminded everyone to ‘please not leave packing for Hogwarts until the last night, sweet Merlin how many times do I have to remind you all?’, in a probably-futile bid, and sent them all off. Ginny raced up the stairs, upsetting the usual order of George and Fred first, and shut the door firmly behind her. She spotted the diary on her desk where she had abandoned it before rushing downstairs for dinner, and quickly picked it up and hid it with the more childish books she still had cluttering up the room because there hadn’t been anyone else to pass them down to. She packed everything she could think of that she wouldn’t need in the next few days, running down the official list as well as her mental ‘pack these when going away’. She was up later than normal, chasing down books she wanted, as well as dropping reminders to herself about things to pack closer to the leaving date in the diary.

The next morning she woke up groggy and stumbled her way downstairs for breakfast, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Gins!” Ron yelled when he spotted her helping herself to breakfast. “We need another person for a Quidditch game, you in?”

Ginny blearily raised her head off her hand and shook it. “I stayed up too late, I’m too tired now. I think I’ll spend this morning reading.”

Ron and the others all ran off, leaving Harry behind. He cocked his head to one side, and seemed about to say something, but at that moment her mum came back into the kitchen and Harry changed his mind and ran off upstairs to grab his broom.

Ginny dragged herself back up the stairs after breakfast, nearly colliding with Harry on the way past. She ducked her head and they awkwardly shuffled around each other on a small staircase. Where Harry had brushed against her tingled. Blushing, and shaking her head at her own folly, she carried on up the stairs, and lay down on the bed again, wondering whether to mention this new development with Harry to Tom.

Over the last few days at the Burrow, she spent most of the time talking to Tom, feeling too wrung out from the late nights and excitement to want to do anything more energetic. He proved very adept at reminding her about the things she needed to pack closer to the final day, as well as regaling her with tales from his time at Hogwarts. She had to keep reminding herself that his Hogwarts was 50 years out of date, but a massively old castle like Hogwarts wouldn’t have changed that much, surely??? The teachers, sure, and she’s pretty sure that none of the teachers Tom told her about still teach, but it was still fascinating to hear about them all.

On September 1st, Ginny woke up and jumped out of bed, feeling wildly excited about _finally_ getting to go to Hogwarts. She ran down the stairs, and jumped the last three, nearly colliding with her dad as he came in to take another trunk out to the car.

“Morning Gins,” he panted, “is your trunk down here yet?”

“No,” she replied, a little guiltily, “I’ll go grab it now.” She turned and ran back up the stairs, pausing in the bathroom to grab her toiletries before dragging the trunk downstairs, thumping on every step. She left the trunk in what passed as an entrance hall, and bounced into the kitchen for breakfast.

“Morning all!” she announced breezily, and got a variety of half-hearted responses. Ignoring them all (after all, they’d already done the ‘going to Hogwarts for the first time’ trick), she poured herself some pumpkin juice and put up with her mum wrangling her hair into some kind of order with only a single ‘Muu-uum,” for show.

It took ages for everyone to be ready to head off to London. She tried not to laugh as he dad tripped over one of the chickens on the driveway, a fact made slightly harder by the fact that she’d seen George surreptitiously nudge the chicken in that direction only 10 minutes before. But eventually, they set off. Ginny read her book on merpeople for a while, until she got carsick, and then she stared out the window, wondering what Hogwarts would be like, and what she was forgetting…

They’d already been back to the Burrow twice, because Fred and George had forgotten their fireworks and broomstick when she remembered that she had meant to pack Tom’s diary and shrieked about it. Her parents were not happy about the situation, but they obediently turned around and went back for it. The stress over nearly forgetting it and relief about collecting it and being close to it again made her irritable, and she spent the rest of the journey is angry silence, biting her tongue to prevent herself from snapping at her mother again.

They reached the train station with 15 minutes to get onto the platform. Ginny was so used to this bit that it wasn’t exciting, even with Harry Potter in such close proximity to herself. She nearly snapped at her mother for not letting her go through the barrier by herself, but bit her tongue and hurried through, fear about what would happen if she missed the train filling her body.

As it was Ron and Harry didn’t make the train, and she spent the entire train journey sitting upright, trying not to worry about it. They couldn’t expel students for their siblings mistakes, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, umm, I have feelings about Ginny's behaviour in book 2 and later. I can't see how she could throw off the effects of (among other things), child grooming, forced attempted murder, rooster killing, being friends with Voldy (although I guess she maybe didn't know that bit...). So yeah, unrealistic in my mind, and writing this chapter really brought that home to me. Things will be different in this version.


	4. Severus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus notices that two thirds of the Golden trio are missing from the sorting feast, and goes to investigate.

Severus glanced down his own snakes, making sure that everyone had managed to make it back to Hogwarts, well, safely might be the wrong word, but alive and in one piece. A couple of them were sitting more defensively than usual, hunched over and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Draco didn’t seem as badly off as he had expected—Lucius must be in a good mood, Seveus thought darkly. No doubt having managed some nefarious politicking. Although Draco did seem rather put out about something, he kept glancing over at the Gryffindor table. If Potter had managed to get on Draco’s nerves already, it was going to be an even longer year than usual. He peered into his pumpkin juice, wishing it had something a bit stronger. He looked up at Draco again, who was _still_ staring at the Gryffindor table, looking rather confused. Severus glanced over as well. Granger’s bushy hair was easiest to see, especially as she appeared to have shot up over the summer and sat nearly half a head above the other second years, but Potter and the Weasley she was usually attached were nowhere to be seen, and Granger sat slightly apart from the other second years, hands clenched in her lap. Whatever plot the two idiots had concocted, either Granger was a better actor than he had ever given her credit for, or she wasn’t in on it, and was actually concerned about their whereabouts. He imagined they wanted an impressive entrance to go with their impressive exit at the end of the previous year. He remembered the year the four Marauders had come in halfway through the sorting on their brooms, wrecking havoc and felt his cheek tic. There hadn’t been much punishment for that infraction either. Really, he ought to just leave the idiots to die, he reflected grimly as he headed for his quarters for a thicker cloak. If he could find them before they started whatever plan they had, he might deflate their egos enough to give him a break until Christmas, he hoped. As he turned to leave, an owl arrived delivering a special edition of the Evening Prophet. He glanced at the front page and let out an explicative which made him very pleased that he was alone. The two brats had decided the Hogwarts Express was too plebeian for their tastes and had instead flown a car to school. Well, he hoped that they’d made it. The manhunt which would result if they had gotten lost would be dreadful. How had none of the prefects on the train not noticed that two students weren’t there? He hurried out the dungeons. He had visions of the two of them driving the car right into the Great Hall, and hoped that he had enough time to stop them.

T he injured Whomping Willow suggested that the pair of them had in fact managed to get to Hogwarts, and he felt himself hoping that the tree had managed to get some good knocks in itself. A whispered incantation revealed some footsteps heading towards the castle and he followed them, reaching earshot of the two children as they realised he wasn’t at the feast.

“Maybe he left because he missed out on the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again,” he heard Potter suggest, and decided to intervene before they got more creative.

“Or maybe he’s waiting to hear why you two didn’t arrive on the school train,” he said coldly. He was rather gratified to see just how high the two of them jumped when surprised, and made a mental note to do so again in a potions class. He watched the two of them turn around, Weasley looking suitably cowed, but Potter just flicked his hair out of his eyes in the arrogant gesture he remembered Potter snr employing when he wanted to be arrogant but avoid detention. Severus felt his lip curl in a sneer in response, which still didn’t faze the Potter brat.

“Follow me,” he said, and led the way back into the castle, knowing that they wouldn’t dare do anything but as they were told for the time being. “In,” he said next, opening the door to his office. Weasley obeyed even as he glanced down the corridor towards the feast in the Great Hall, but Potter paused, giving him a measuring look before attempting to swagger into the room. The effect was a bit ruined by the over-large clothes Potter wore to try and make up for his small size, trying to appear larger and more imposing than he actually was. 

“So,” Severus began, knowing that he didn’t have to yell now he had the two of them contained in his territory, where he was sure of his power, “the train isn’t good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a _bang_ , did we, boys?”

“No sir, it was the barrier at King’s Cross, it—”

“Silence,”Severus said, not interested in hearing whatever feeble excuse the boys had undoubtedly concocted to attempt to justify their flagrant rule breaking. “What have you done with the car?”

Potter gaped at him, eyes flashing in confusion, and Severus took advantage of the fact to attempt some surface legilimency. He couldn’t do anything in depth, but if there was another prank in the planning, he should be able to find some evidence of it. But the only feeling he got was some rudimentary shields he couldn’t break without revealing himself. He withdrew effortlessly, cursing the instinctive shields Potter had developed. They could be gradually weakened with some subtle probing, but he didn’t have the time to do so now.

“You were seen,” Severus hissed, showing the two brats the special _Evening Prophet_ and revelling in the look of shock he managed to put on Potter’s face. He read some of the paper out loud, pressing his advantage. “Six or seven muggles in all. I believe _your_ father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?” he asked Weasley this time, enjoying the flinch that Potter gave at the news and reminder that his friend’s job was potentially at stake. He grinned, knowing that showing his teeth made people uncomfortable. “Dear dear, his own son…” He glanced at Potter, but he was avoiding his eyes now. “I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow,” Snape continued, trying to get a reaction out of Potter that involved eye contact. Unfortunately, the other brat replied.

“That tree did more damage to _us_ than we—”

“Silence!” Severus snapped, already annoyed at this charade. He couldn’t even discipline them the way they deserved, he thought angrily, cursing Dumbledore in his head. “Most unfortunately, you are not in my house and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who _do_ have that power. You will wait here.” He swept out of the room with a swirl of his cape and a wordless activation of his eavesdropping spell.

It took 10 minutes to collect Minerva, who somehow hadn’t even noticed that two of her students were missing from the feast. He was pleased to note that the brats hadn’t moved from where they had been standing. He was even more pleased to note the two students had the common sense to flinch when faced with an angry Minerva pulling her wand on them. He thought the fire was a little over the top, but then he was used to standing in the cold for hours dealing with temperamental potion ingredients.

“Explain.” She said flatly, and Severus listened to the inane babblings of Weasley as he tried to justify the lack of common sense either of them possessed.

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl?” she asked Potter, causing him to gape at her in surprise. How? How was he supposed to keep this kid alive when he was just as stupid, just as utterly disregarding of the rules as his father? He would’ve rubbed his eyes if he had been alone and didn’t have potion ingredients all over his fingers.

“I—I didn’t think…” Harry began.

“That much,” Minerva said coldly, “is obvious.” Severus was delighted to hear Minerva echo his own thoughts perfectly, and was smiling until he opened his office door and saw Albus standing outside. He turned around in time to see Harry flinch even harder than when Minerva pulled out her wand and go back to staring at the floor. Severus chalked that up to upsetting his idol, but was pretty sure he needn’t be worried, Albus wouldn’t let his Golden Boy (and by extension, Weasley) leave the school, whether it was warranted or not. Severus sighed internally. Once again Potter would be rewarded for breaking not just the school rules but internationally agreed upon Laws designed to protect the wizarding world and its denizens. He could feel a headache coming on.

“Please explain why you did this,” Albus said eventually. Severus could hear the disappointment in his voice, and was immediately reminded of that night, just over 12 years previously. He slammed his occlumency shields up so hard he exacerbated the headache but he didn’t have time to deal with those memories right now. He had to make sure Potter didn’t get himself killed tonight through his own arrogance.

He listened as Potter went through the same explanation that Weasley had done only a few minutes previously, noting any discrepancies for later study. Potter, it seemed, had at least been smart enough to not immediately implicate Weasley’s parents in the whole scheme, but it was a bad effort, and immediately obvious to anyone. Not that Albus cared about the details, and Severus was pretty sure that once again, the Ministry wouldn’t be informed of such a serious breach of Wizarding Law. Serious crimes would once again go unpunished because the perpetrators were some of Albus’s favourites.

“We’ll go and get our stuff,” Weasley said, sounding hopeless. Clearly, he had not yet realised that Potter, and therefore by extension himself and Granger were all sacrosanct.

“What are you talking about?” Minerva said, sounding annoyed at the confusion.

“Well, you’re expelling us, aren’t you?”

Potter glanced at Albus, the motion so subservient and different to how he had stared arrogantly at Severus that Severus would’ve thought it was a different person if he hadn’t known better.

“Not today, Mr Weasley,” Albus said, infuriating Severus. “But I must impress upon the both of you…” Nothing short of expulsion would teach Weasley the error of his ways, Severus was sure, and as for writing to their families? Potter would be lauded as a hero, Severus was sure, whenever he deigned to go home again.

Knowing it was a useless endeavour, Severus decided to try anyway. “Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree…surely acts of this nature…”

Albus glanced at him, unmoved. “It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys’ punishments, Severus,” he replied calmly, “they are in her house, and therefore her responsibility.” Severus arched an eyebrow. Minerva hadn’t even noticed them missing from the Feast. Nor had she paid them the slightest bit of attention when they went to her concerned about the protections around the Philosophers stone. He sent a mental prayer to Soteria for help protecting the ungrateful brats and allowed himself to be led out of his office by Albus to let Minerva and the boys talk, leaving the eavesdropping spell still on.


End file.
